She cracks an eye open, tilting her head to peer up at me with a mischievous glint. “Admit it,baby daddy. You’d get bored if I was nice all the time.”
Jesus.
The way that name rolls off her tongue makes my cock jerk, precum already leaking from the tip. It’s already a hell of a rush knowing she’s pregnant and hearing her remind me I’m the one who knocked her up makes me want to pin her against the tile and remind her exactly how I did it.
“I do have a weakness for that smart mouth of yours,” I admit, my fingers still working through her hair.
“It’s going to get you in trouble one of these days,” she taunts with a grin.
It already has.
Charlie Bennett has carved out a permanent place in my chest, and I want her to stay forever.
I clear my throat, forcing my attention back to the task at hand, because otherwise the temptation to touch her the way I really want to would take over.
Once her hair is thoroughly washed out, I repeat the process with conditioner, using my fingertips to massage it into her scalp.
Charlie’s eyes fall shut as she tips her head back, her body angling slightly toward me. It gives me an unobstructed look of her face and the soft curves of her body beneath the spray, and I take a moment to appreciate the view. Her lips are slightly parted, and without a stitch of makeup, the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose stand out.
My gaze drifts lower to her full breasts, water trailing over their rounded swells, her nipples stiffened into tight peaks. I’ll never get over how breathtaking she is, all soft curves and fair skin. And I consider myself lucky for being the man who gets to call her my wife. It also has me looking forward to all the future showers we’ll share when she’s swollen with my baby.
“Fuck, nothing turns me on more than knowing you’re pregnant,” I murmur, squeezing the last of the conditioner from her hair.
Charlie hesitates for a long moment before speaking.
“Heath…” she says hesitantly, looking back at me with vulnerability shining in her eyes. “Do you think I’ll be a good mom?”
The question catches me off guard, but I’m quick to spin her around to face me, keeping my body between her and the spray. I’ve made the mistake of making her wait for an answer one too many times, and I won’t repeat that mistake now.
“Where is this coming from?”
She blinks, rubbing water from her eyes. “My mom bailed when I was a baby, and I never met my dad. What if being a bad parent is genetic?”
I’ll never understand how a mother could walk away from her child or how a father could want nothing to do with his daughter. It makes me want to track down the piece of shit and deliver the ass-kicking he deserves for hurting what’s mine.
I wind my arm around her waist as I smooth her damp hair from her face. “Your parents’ failures don’t define your future, and I don’t ever want you to compare yourself to them again. You’re not even in the same stratosphere.”
She has an incredible support system in her corner, including Grams, Florence, me, and my whole family. We’d all do anything for her, and I hope she sees how much she’s loved and wanted.
Charlie rolls her eyes. “You’re my husband. You have to say those things.”
I arch a brow and level her with a measured look. “Have I ever sugarcoated the truth?”
She begrudgingly shakes her head.
“Exactly. So believe me when I say you’re going to be an incredible mom,” I state, trailing a finger along her jaw. “You’veloved this baby from the very beginning even when you didn’t know the kind of support you’d have. You never wavered, and that strength is so fucking sexy. Hell, I’ve seen you interact with Caleb and how sweet you are when talking to Lottie when she video-chats with you from Wren’s phone. Kids love you and ours will too—more than anything.”
Charlie’s expression softens, the corners of her mouth lifting. “You’re going to be a good daddy too.”
“I hope so,” I reply wistfully.
I have the opposite problem as Charlie. I worry I’ll never measure up to how great my parents were. They always showed up when it mattered most and showered my siblings and me with nothing but love and support. I can only hope to do the same with my own kids, and don’t want to have a laundry list of regrets by the time I’m an old man.
Water cascades around us, yet all I can see is Charlie. We’re sharing an ordinary, everyday moment that most couples take for granted, and it makes me want every single one—washing her hair when she’s sick, romantic bubble baths, and fucking hard against the shower wall when we can’t keep our hands off each other long enough to make it to the bed.
I make fast work of washing my own hair and rinsing the grime off my body, while Charlie’s heated gaze follows my every move. She licks her lips as I soap up my chest, my cock jutting out, thick veins pulsing along its rigid length. It takes every ounce of my self-restraint not to stroke myself as I clean my aching length. Still, I know the wait will be worth it once Charlie finally admits the undeniable truth—that she wants me.
Once I’m finished, I shut off the water, open the shower door, and grab two towels from the rack on the wall, passing one to Charlie.